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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161163">Ash and Ink</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid'>HyperKid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Soft Beans, Widojest Week, Widojest Week 2020, prompt: paint stained/soot streaked fingers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:47:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperKid/pseuds/HyperKid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jester and Caleb leave marks on each other in a lot of little ways, some more tangible than others. But what’s a little splash of paint between friends?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caleb Widogast/Jester Lavorre, widojest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ash and Ink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HK: I am........ discontented. <br/>Mollymauk: This one got away from you a little bit. <br/>HK: I’m still not fully sure where it ended up honestly. This was another one where I had no idea where it was going the entire time. <br/>Mollymauk: Went somewhere interesting, though. <br/>HK: *grinning* I may also want to do some more exploring in Jester’s complexity. She tends to get written off as “happy-shallow”, which is very lazy? <br/>Mollymauk: She can be happy and deep. <br/>HK: She is happy and deep. And! Yesterday’s fairytale prompt also spun me off into a longer thing that’s gonna become PolyNein now! <br/>Mollymauk: That’s two ship weeks in a row you’ve buggered off with a prompt. <br/>HK: This time it’s almost entirely your fault. <br/>Mollymauk: Excuse me, I think it’s always my fault. <br/>HK: ... You’re my second greatest weakness. <br/>Mollymauk: *mock offended gasp* I will find and destroy the first! </p><p>WARNINGS!! I don’t think the Artagan thing is a spoiler anymore? Spoiler for that if you don’t know I guess? </p><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one and miiiiight do another divine threesome if I’m fast enough for this week &gt;.&gt;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There always seemed to be a faint patina of soot over Caleb’s fingers after a battle. Pretty much whenever he used a fire spell, really. Jester used to think it was the bandages wrapped around his hands, that they would burn and char when he used the spells. </p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But the bandages were always intact, and he hadn’t worn them for weeks now, but that faint smear of soot still showed up. He didn’t even seem to think about it, just brushing sooty fingers against his dark grey trousers and moving on. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She couldn’t help wondering if that was why he’d wanted that particular colour when he sent her and Yasha shopping; it certainly explained the many, criss crossing streaks of black all over his old coat. Caleb was doing his best to keep the new coat clean, and soot didn’t show up on his pants. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ever since they’d arrived in Rosohna, he’d been so... fastidious. It was especially stark after the mess he’d made of himself in Assarius. After how long he’d kept those old, filthy, battered clothes, no matter how many times they’d offered to buy him new ones, or at least wash the old. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He looked almost completely different now; clean shaven, hair tied back neatly, dressed as immaculately as possible given their day to day lives. Taking care of himself in ways he’d explicitly refused to for weeks. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester knew she should have been happy, and she really was. It was wonderful to see him come out from behind his mask of mud and hair. She’d always known he was handsome, they’d dragged him to the bath house often enough and Yasha did her best when he asked her to shave him. He hid as much of himself as he could in scruffiness. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And yeah, maybe she was just a little annoyed that right when she’d finally gotten really good at drawing his beard, he shaved it off properly. It was tricky to really master the subtle shifts in expression with a bushy beard covering most of his face. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even the Traveler had agreed she’d gotten pretty good at it, and now she didn’t have anyone to practice on! Fjord and Caduceus had shaved too, and she didn’t want to ~say~ she was mad, but... just a little bit. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Not that she was gonna stop drawing them. Now she couldn’t help being fascinated by the changes; the softer lines of Caleb’s face, the gentle curve of his lips when he smiled. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>When he’d asked her and Yasha to pick up some clothes for him, she’d worried a little. Not whether he’d wear them - his old clothes had been loose, baggy, and badly fitted, and he never seemed to mind. Might even have preferred it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But... she wanted to get him something nice. Something he’d like, and feel comfortable in, and something that’d make him feel good about himself. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester didn’t really know why she paid so much attention to Caleb’s clothes. Wasn’t really sure when she’d started. He so clearly hadn’t cared before, refusing to have that ratty old coat cleaned right up until he threw it away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Thought he’d thrown it away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester couldn’t really define why she’d kept the thing either, not if she was asked. She just... it was old, disgusting, filthy, and now that Caleb had emptied all of the spell components from his pockets it was just a coat. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Just the coat she’d teased him about for weeks. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The coat she’d begged him to let her clean. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The coat she and Molly had draped over him a thousand times when he got lost in himself. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The coat she’d hidden herself in when they told her Molly died. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It felt like safety in a way she just couldn’t begin to explain. She’d had it washed for him, especially after the mess he got himself into in Assarius, and now it lived in a box under her bed. Beau didn’t know about it, or if she did she hadn’t said. Jester just... couldn’t throw it away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Which was silly, because Caleb was right there still, always close by. Just like that faint patina of ash and soot on his fingers. Jester couldn’t pinpoint exactly when safety had started to smell like fire, but she couldn’t deny it had. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Better than it smelling of batshit or sulfur, for sure. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>*** </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As much as Jester had always teased him about being a mess when they met, she never seemed to worry overmuch about getting herself dirty. Caleb had expected her to be fastidious - not ladylike, certainly, but that first day she’d been perfect, pristine, and pretty, not a hair out of place. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And then she’d stuck her hands into dead bodies, scrambled through mud, and tossed her cape over a decapitated head without a second’s hesitation. It was funny really... even on a normal day, there were almost always smears of paint or ink on her fingers. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her short blue gloves were faintly covered in crisscrossing splotches and stains and the way she twirled her brushes, expertly swirling paint over the thick pages of her sketchbook often left smudges on her skin. Never on the book, unless she wanted it to; Caleb had never realized that there was a whole art to streaking wet paint to create such wonderful fades of colour. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>At some point or another, most of the Nein had glanced over while Jester was doodling. Most of the sketchbook was full of simple sketches, usually of dicks or silly things from their adventures. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sometimes on watch Caleb would ask her to show him what she’d drawn. Only the things she was comfortable with, but then... it was Jester. He could think of maybe a single time where she’d turned a page without cheerfully describing what was on it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ever since she’d gotten more coloured inks from her mother, her art had been more vibrant and colourful, the same as the very earliest sketches in the book. There was a whole stretch where she must have run out of almost everything but black; almost nothing else was a single colour throughout the book, but there were several pages together of simple black and white pictures. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>One was of Frumpkin, his fur fluffed up and releasing sparks almost like he was on fire himself. As he looked at it Caleb couldn’t help imagining the drawing coming to life, flickering embers rising from his familiar and dancing in the air. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A lot of Jester’s paintings were of the Mighty Nein. Of him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The first was a simple little doodle from the day they’d met, barely more than a stick figure with little doodled stink lines. Jester had laughed to tell him about it, then paused. Looked sheepish in that way she always did when she suspected she’d upset him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Frankly, it was probably Caleb’s favourite picture she’d drawn of him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was actually the only one which didn’t feel... uncomfortable. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Caleb... Bren, had loved being looked at. At being the center of attention, vain and proud and confident, charming and craving validation. Caleb could barely remember being that boy, but now... </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The way Jester drew him now, pages upon pages dedicated to getting the shape of his eyes right, of capturing the way his lips curved in that wry smile, it spoke silently of dedication. Devotion. Her desire to watch him, and understand, and keep a part of him for herself as well. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And that fucking terrified him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Every one was beautiful in a way that he couldn’t help but feel he shouldn’t be. He wasn’t worth this much time, this much effort. As a wizard, he was uniquely sensitive to how much ink was wasted in a page full of doodles. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester drew him happy, laughing at their jokes. She drew him drunk in Hupperdook, drew him exhausted and battle worn and half asleep. She drew him lighting camp fires for the group, staring into flames and lit in all sorts of colours. She drew him sprawled in bedsheets, hair everywhere and orgasm slackening his jaw. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She drew him looking lost. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Just one picture, the one she’d skipped right past. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He couldn’t imagine when she’d seen it. When he’d let such a look of loss, of pain, sorrow, despair actually cross his face. There was no way he could ask her either; how to even bring it up ended the conversation before it could start. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He couldn’t even ask why she’d want to draw it. It wasn’t the kind of thing Jester liked to focus on. For all that she was always the one to come to him, to tell him she was there for him, she was so uncomfortable with her own pain. She was so eager to be a comfort to him, to do anything she could to make him feel better. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Seeing the look she’d drawn on his face, he could understand why. Just the thought of Jester looking so broken herself cut at his heart. Her face was made for smiles, for happiness and mischief and joy. Her fingers should be flecked with paint, not mud and blood and worse. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He could never tell her how uncomfortable he felt, looking at those lovingly detailed drawings, because it wasn’t her fault. Her work was incredible. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And Caleb couldn’t imagine how to explain “you are wasting your time looking at me” without upsetting her. Jester Lavorre would never believe him. Would never let that statement stand. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And he was absolutely terrified that she’d be able to convince him otherwise. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He could feel it somewhere in the back of his mind, just a tiny bit louder with every picture. With every smile. With every cheerful compliment, or happy greeting in the morning. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was becoming dangerously easy to think of himself as someone worthwhile, and when Jester asked him to demonstrate some magic for her, to help her work on her lighting, there was no way he’d say no. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>*** </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dancing lights flickered across the gleaming woodwork, reflected in the polished rails and brass fixtures. Another danced lazily along the base of one of the sales, a soft glow cast from the fabric to light the area around it. The third waited at the railing, ready to spin down and skip across the waves. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Stars sparkled in the sky above as Jester sketched away, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, her pencil scratching across the paper. Caleb couldn’t help a fond smile as he watched her, leaning up against the wheel. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Officially he was working as navigator for the night, but he had to admit he wasn’t paying as much attention as he could be. There didn’t seem to be much need, the lights of the armada all around a more sure guide than watching the stars. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It had been a while since they had some peace and quiet. Time to just... relax, and focus on the little things. Caleb hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed watching Jester sketch. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She got so absorbed in her work, so beautifully intense as she focused on the page, her whole world concentrated down to the play of ink on paper. It almost entirely transformed her; the bright, bouncy motion blur confined to a single space. He’d never have believed it possible when they first met. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And maybe he could understand why she liked to watch him focusing on his spells. Jester did intensity extremely well in everything she did. And watching it... sort of let Caleb let go of his own intensity. His own drive. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It really seemed like the world would be okay and he could just watch Jester for hours. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She looked up from her book with a satisfied flourish, bouncing onto her feet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What do you think, Caleb?” She asked cheerfully, turning the page towards him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Shaking off his stupor, he focused on the page and leaned in, eyes tracking the neat lines. She’d been drawing the light at the rail, picking out the gleam of reflection in the wood, the shine on the brass. Looking up to where the orb hovered he had to admit it looked good. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“That is very close,” he agreed with a smile, shifting his fourth orb closer to shine on the page itself. Part of him wondered just how different the world looked through tiefling eyes; she’d sketched in flickering shadows like it was midday. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She made a soft, happy noise as she reclaimed the book, bouncing closer to press a kiss to his cheek. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Thank, Cay-leb! This is really going to help!” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even if he hadn’t already been smiling, he would have started. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Do you need them to move?” He asked softly, glancing around to check that they were still on course. It felt like he’d been watching her for hours, but they were moving along well. Not too much drifting within the fleet. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester glanced around too, then smiled up at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Could you put one down along the waves for me? The light looks so pretty sparkling in the water, I’d really like to try it,” she gushed, bright and bubbly as the midday sun. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Like she even had to ask. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A simple flick of his wrist sent the orb of light tumbling over the side of the ship to skip alongside amongst the waves. It’d take a little more concentration than just hovering and lighting a patch of rail, but Caleb wasn’t worried. He’d held the spell in worse. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>With a happy squeak of delight, Jester followed, darting to the railing and bending almost all the way over it to watch the orb fall. Caleb lurched after her instinctively but pulled himself back to the wheel. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She’d be alright; Jester was sure on her feet even at sea, and her tail wrapped tightly around the railing. Even with both hands happily sketching away, practically upside down, she was still visibly having fun as she flicked her brush into the pot of ink held at her waist. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her brush flew through the night, the occasional drops of ink spattering across the decks and her clothes. Soft, happy little sounds barely made their way to Caleb’s ears over the creak of timbers and splash of waves. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He let his mind drift a little, half an eye always on her as the ship ploughed slowly through the waves. It was so... nice. To have something so simple to focus on, something so entirely in his control. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>To be able to watch Jester, happy and carefree and sunshine sweet. To know that things really were going well. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They were going to a peace that would not have been possible without the people on this ship. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That would not have happened if he hadn’t pulled an object from a bag at just the right moment. That might not have happened without the threat of Obann to give them something to come together on. It was strange to think of the demon as someone to thank. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester made another soft, happy noise and Caleb’s lips pulled into a smile automatically. He tried to pretend he didn’t love Jester’s little tiefling noises. Tried telling himself he didn’t deserve them. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It didn’t seem to matter; Jester never stopped making them, and it was getting harder to remind himself that they weren’t for him. Weren’t his, just like everything else about this wonderful, powerful, loving woman. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was much easier to remind himself that he was hers. So if she wanted lights to paint by, he’d provide them. If she wanted to experiment, he’d be there to help. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>If she teetered just a little too far cresting a wave, he’d dive like an idiot who forgot he had a Mage Hand to catch her by the waist, sending them both crashing to the deck. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ink splashed wildly from the still open pot, flecking their clothes and skin and staining the deck around them. Heart in his throat, Caleb cast the Mage Hand on the wheel, catching it before it could list too far to one side or another. He could feel Jester tense in his arms. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Felt when she relaxed back into him, tight muscles melting into a cuddle. Arching her head back she gave him a grin, breath just a little too ragged. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I guess maybe I should lean out a little less... thanks, Caleb.” Sprawled together, it was easy for her to push up just that little bit more to kiss him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She hadn’t bothered worrying about keeping her balance before; why would she? Caleb was there to catch her, just like he had. Caleb always caught her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The wizard smiled back, leaning down to return the kiss. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No trouble. Are you alright?” He asked softly and leaned back as Jester jumped up, scrambling to check her sketchbook for any missing pages and to grab for her brush. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She made a soft, sad sound as she touched her ink pot and found it half empty. Unhooking it from her belt she raised it to peek inside, assessing how much was left. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I was nearly ready to add more anyway,” she assured Caleb quickly, pulling on a bright smile, “I guess I just need to take a break. I think I was getting the hang of it...” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She paused, frowning as she looked back to her sketchbook. A large splot of ink had splattered across the page. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t think I can Mend that,” she admitted with a sigh, slumping back against him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Not sure what to say, Caleb tugged her closer, lacing his fingers over hers and giving her hand a squeeze. Pressing his cheek to the top of her head, he laid a gentle kiss in her hair. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It looks good?” He offered and had to duck a horn as Jester tipped her head back to frown up at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It looks like one big spill,” she argued, dropping her sketchbook to the deck and hurriedly pinning it with a foot before it could slide away. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Caleb’s smile widened and he shrugged, tucking her back up to his chest. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry, Blueberry.” For a moment he wasn’t sure she’d let it go. Then she sighed softly and laced her fingers through his. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“It’s not your fault. I should have been more careful.” A bit of delicate maneuvering let her tuck her face into the crook of his neck with her horn just resting on his shoulder. A small smile tugged at her lips. “This is nice though.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Caleb certainly wasn’t about to argue. Keeping the ship on course with his Mage Hand was hardly an effort, and it was nice to just... go with the flow for a while. To rock and sway and watch the contrast of his pale skin with Jester’s ink spattered blue. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wasn’t sure quite when his fingertips began tracing idle patterns across her hand, streaking some of the stains into whorls and spirals. Jester’s skin was pleasantly cool in the heat of the sea. She always was, her lower body temperature meaning that their cuddle helped to cool him down. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Which should also mean that conversely, his higher temperature should make her uncomfortably hot, but she never seemed to mind. Jester was happy just to press close into his chest, to feel his arms around her. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even almost a year after leaving home she had a hard time remembering that she wasn’t alone anymore. It was worst at night. Sometimes she jerked awake, afraid that the last few months, the whole time with her Nein had just been a dream. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That she was still alone, hidden away like a shameful secret. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Her grip tightened on Caleb’s hand just at the thought. She clutched at Caleb automatically, curling closer to press her face into his hair and smell the smoke. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Burrowing in to whoever was closest helped. Having a whole person there to hold, to feel their warmth and listen to them breathe or to the beat of their hearts helped to settle her own. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>All the Nein had their own strengths and weaknesses as a cuddle buddy; Nott - no, Veth, was small enough to cradle in her lap and snuggle, while Caduceus was more than large enough to do the same to her. Caddy was also furry and soft, which was always a plus. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Yasha had lovely big, strong arms for cuddling, and Fjord had a wonderful layer of plush over his muscles that she could really snuggle into. Beau was wiry and powerful and so fucking cute when she got all awkward about snuggling in, Jester could just lift her off her feet for a squeeze. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But Caleb... Caleb was special. He wasn’t much taller than her, and still skinny as anything. But he always had her back. No matter what she was doing, Caleb was there to back her up. Not just to catch her when she fell but to lift her higher. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He trusted her judgement, listened to her ideas, and he’d been the only one to try and be friends when they’d met the Traveler. The only one who tried to accept him and hadn’t been openly hostile. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>That mattered, a lot. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jester still wasn’t really sure how she felt about learning about her childhood friend, and talking to Beau and Yasha hadn’t helped much. But it helped so, so, so much to know that whatever she chose, Caleb would have her back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Would offer his wisdom if asked, but not judge her. Would be there, just like he was tonight, ready to catch her if anything went wrong. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She trusted all the Nein of course, but... having Caleb as her anchor meant that she could relax. Could stretch herself and try new things. Could sit down and really try to work out how she felt about Artagan. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And he would just hold her and let her do what she liked, no rushing or asking what she was thinking about. After a while her gaze tracked down to where their fingers entwined. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Human pale and tiefling blue. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His were kinda smeared with ink now too. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>And she remembered learning that the first paints were made from ashes and soot. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HK: I want more fluff. But! There will also be some smut going up later in the week!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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